


Killian in New York City Serenade - missing scene

by Ael_tRlailiiu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ael_tRlailiiu/pseuds/Ael_tRlailiiu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Killian did that first day in New York, in between Emma's door and the restaurant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killian in New York City Serenade - missing scene

Emma had a damnably accurate knee. Once his life finished flashing before his eyes, Killian straightened up and considered his next move.

The bean had deposited him at Emma’s door. The hall stretched in two directions, broken at regular intervals by doors -- this was one of those warren-like buildings such as Baelfire had dwelt in. Most importantly, the place was quite devoid of cover. He could not afford to spend time ruing the ineffective kiss. He did have the memory potion. He would simply have to convince Emma to take it somehow, and soon. 

A bright autumn morning awaited outside, crisp and cool. New York had several advantages over cities he had known in the Enchanted Forest -- lack of sewage in the streets for one, and their orderly layout made getting lost impossible. The crowds were thick and busy, and barely paused to consider one oddly-dressed stranger.

He followed Emma as far as the school, where she said goodbye to Henry -- the lad had put on inches in the past year -- then lost her a block later when she descended into a baffling underground realm. In a land with no magic, it probably wasn’t a dwarf mine down there, but nothing else in Killian’s experience produced such a constant din as this city did.

Hook returned to the apartment building and took stock. Possibly he should have taken more time to plan this venture before using the bean. On the other hand, one more moment in Blackbeard’s company, and he would have killed the man (and made certain of it this time). 

A nearby park provided a potential solution. Stone tables stood under the trees to one side, one of them occupied by a pair of elderly women. Children played elsewhere in the park, watched by attentive adults. Their presence clinched the matter; Killian opened up his satchel and switched out the hook for the gloved “hand.” He hated the thing to the very depths of his soul for the useless lie that it was, but for the moment, appearances took precedence. 

“I beg your pardon, gentle ladies.” 

“Haven’t got any spare change,” the one playing black said, frowning at her game pieces.

“Nor do I.” The other looked him up and down through her spectacles. “Who are you supposed to be?” 

“Just a visitor.” He smiled and held her eyes. “And one at something of a loss, I fear, at navigating your city. Might I request the favor of a few moments of your time? Once your game is concluded, of course.”

“From England, are you?”

“A man of no country, at present. I’m visiting a... friend, and find myself at loose ends for a portion of the day.” Friend? A one-time enemy, something else since then, someone who no longer remembered him at all. He had given up trying to break his promise to her, just in time to accept someone else’s quest.

The second woman sighed audibly. “Do we look like tour guides?” 

“Now, Ethel. That kind of thing is why people think this city is unfriendly. Can’t say I’ve got anything on my agenda today. Gertrude Whitman,” she introduced herself. “That’s my cousin Ethel over there. Now let me think a minute.”

“Killian Jones. May I offer a suggestion?” He gestured at the board.

Sharp gray eyes peered up at him before she nodded. “What’ve you got?” 

He leaned down and murmured in her ear, “Take her knight.” 

“Ha!” She chuckled. “Not to worry, young man, I was just making her sweat first. You play?” 

“Perspicacious as well as elegant, I see. On occasion.” 

“Oh hell, here we go. Are you going to play or flirt?” Ethel rolled her eyes. 

“No reason not to do both. Have to make the most of the time I have left.” Gertrude took the knight and three other pieces in quick succession, winning the game. “Now then, Mr. Jones.” 

“You’re gonna regret this,” Ethel said. “There was a special on about serial killers just last night, you remember.” 

“Pretty sure serial killers don’t go around making themselves this conspicuous. Anyway, what did you want?”

“Only some directions. I could perhaps repay you with a bit of entertainment.” He didn’t have anything to do but wait for Emma to return home. Every glimpse of blonde hair passing by drew his gaze like a compass needle. 

“Oh, I can’t wait to see this,” Ethel said, ceding the chair to him with a snort. “Anyway, Gertrude can barely find her way uptown with a map. Where you going?”

“Somewhere I could purchase a map would be an excellent beginning. I am not without funds, although some exchange may be required.” On his last visit to this world, Granny Lucas had been happy to take gold. 

“Is that all?” Gertrude set up the pieces. “We can do that. Play first.”

The sun grew stronger and moved their shadows a couple of inches. Children came and went, shouting joy and protests accordingly. Ethel kibitzed and knitted. Killian won the game, but it was a narrow contest. 

“Well fought, madame.” He gave his opponent a seated bow. 

“Good game.” Gertrude regarded the board with satisfaction. “If you just want a map, there’s a newsstand not too far from here.” 

“But there’s a better one over by the sandwich shop,” Ethel said. 

“If you aim to get cheated, sure,” her cousin said with a sniff. “Their pickles are terrible.” Bickering, they packed up the game pieces and headed down the sidewalk. “You coming or not, Blue-Eyes?”

A rapid lesson in this world’s rates of exchange followed. He had simply swept all of the gold in the Jolly Roger’s coffers into his satchel before leaving the ship, but that should keep him in this world for some time. He hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. 

The much-needed map acquired, he said, “I am deeply in your debt, my ladies.” Last visit, he had been focused on nothing but the need to reach the Crocodile while he was still vulnerable, lacking his magic; he had not stopped to appreciate the sheer size of this place. Storybrooke might be odd, but at least it was the proper size for a town. 

“It was our pleasure,” Gertrude said. “But now the doctor says I’ve got to walk every day, or I’ll keel over sooner rather than later.”

“Perish the thought.”

“So, which way?” She looked expectant.

“Pardon?”

“Lead on.” She waved a grandiose arm. “It’s nice to talk with someone who has a real vocabulary these days. Humor an old lady?” 

“I am humbled, madame.”

“I doubt that very much.” She grinned.

Ethel rolled her eyes. “I’m off home. Dinner’s at six! I hope I won’t be calling to report a missing person tonight.” 

“Yes, yes, I know. Busybody.” Gertrude took Killian’s arm. “I thought she’d never leave. So, tell me about your friend?”

“Ah… where to begin.” He managed a smile. “One might as well attempt to describe the sea.” For all the hours he had dreamed about her, he could not imagine where to begin with such a task. 

“Oh, it’s like that!” Gertrude appeared delighted. “Cross-oceanic romance, is it?”

“You’ve no idea. Perhaps you could enlighten me regarding your home, as we traverse its streets.”

Gertrude was happy to do so, filling his ears with seventy years of New York memories and a grim and eternal war against her landlord that made the Ogres War appear a trifle. Killian steered them toward Baelfire’s place, site of the not-quite-fatal encounter -- more’s the pity, he thought, but it was a reflex. There was a thing or two to be said for unexpected consequences. The Crocodile was dead. Killian could be content with that, even if it wasn’t by his own hand. 

“Excuse me a moment,” he told Gertrude, and checked the building lobby. Nothing appeared to have changed there. Perhaps Emma would find that convincing, if she distrusted his word alone. 

After that, they wanted. He had not meant to go in any particular direction, but their path took them to the end of the island. A mild wind came off the bay, offered a teasing memory of summer now out of reach. 

_ Gone _ , the thought hit with a pang. All those years, all of that blood and sweat, the memories and the tears -- the  _ Jolly Roger _ was gone. He hadn’t even hesitated. The wound was not so terrible as some; it would heal.

“My second husband was a Navy man,” Gertrude remarked out of nowhere. 

“I hope he appreciated your perception.” 

“Not as much as he appreciated his secretary.” She shrugged. “C’est la guerre, right.” 

“Indeed. The afternoon grows late.” He tucked a doubloon into her coat pocket before she could protest. “For your trouble.” 

“Tosh. It was a pleasure.” She beamed up at him. “I hope you have a nice visit with your friend.”

“Thank you.” He looked from the harbor to the towers behind them. Somewhere among them was Emma, and far off to the north her family in dire need. “I hope so, too.” 


End file.
